


warm my bones and fill my glass

by soupstupiid



Category: Original Work, Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: AAAND FINALLY!!!, Completed, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Gift Fic, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, cooking for your friends is a love language, i'm literally writing fanfic about me and my friend's co-op world huh, kind of some..., me desperately trying to accommodate game mechanics into real life, not to worry i have a license: im trans and this has a happy ending so dont worry, the main character is a gay disaster, those tags make this sound....bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupstupiid/pseuds/soupstupiid
Summary: “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smiles easily. It was one. Almost anything is when it comes to Elliott. “Well. I’d better get going, but it was wonderful seeing you.” He puts his hand on Will’s shoulder and Will, once again, has to remember to breathe normally.Wonderful.“You too, Elliott. See you around.”It was wonderful seeing you.or:a gift for my best friend featuring his sdv farmer, Will, and my own farmer Margot :-)
Relationships: Elliott/Male Player (Stardew Valley), Penny/Female Player (Stardew Valley), if you squint
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merakiichor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merakiichor/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 1 babey lets go! the title of this fic is from "god I hope this year is better than the last" by SYML. enjoy!!!

_ “Dear Will, _ _  
  
_

_ I’d like to share some information about an upcoming event: the Feast of the Winter Star. It's a time for the community to come together and think back on all the good fortune we've had this year. _

_ A favorite tradition is the "secret gift exchange", where everyone in town is randomly assigned to someone else. On the day of the festival, everyone brings a gift for their secret friend and surprises them with something special! _

_ This year, your secret friend is Elliott. Don't tell anyone! _ _  
_ _ The feast will take place on the 25th from 10AM to 2PM at the town square. See you then! _ _  
  
_

_ -Mayor Lewis” _

Will blinks down at the words in front of him, his hand tingling from the chilled winter air where he’d taken his glove off to open the envelope. The warmth of his breath clouds the air as he exhales, and he folds the letter into the form it had arrived in.  _ The Feast of the Winter Star _ ,  _ is it? _ _  
_ _  
_ Next spring, it would be a full year that they’d spent in the valley. He wasn’t completely familiar with Pelican Town’s festivals, but he found that he understood completely why the townsfolk seemed so proud to celebrate them. This isn’t the first time he’d heard of the feast - a few people had offhandedly mentioned it throughout the year, but he’d never asked them to elaborate on it, figuring the Mayor would let him in on it when the time rolled around as usual. 

And it made sense, honestly, that he never heard of their holidays prior to moving here. Beyond Grandpa’s stories, he’d hardly heard of Stardew Valley in general. The place seemed to seclude itself, keeping its secrets within its own borders. He had quickly learned that his new life here would be far different from what he’d known in the city.

Wet, crunching footsteps approach from his left, and he looks up to see Margot walking towards him, wearing the same gentle and ever-present smile as usual. A snowy breeze jostles her short pink hair where it sticks out from under her knit hat, and her cheeks are reddened from the cold. “Got that letter from the Mayor too?”   
  
“Hi. Yeah. Does everyone get a- a ‘secret friend,’ like he mentioned?” Will asks, putting the paper back into its envelope and gloving his hand again. Margot shrugs.   
  
“Dunno. I got Linus though.”   
  
“Lewis said not to tell anyone.”   
  
“Yeah, but you’re not anyone. Who’d you get?” She gestures as well as she can to the letter with her elbow, both of her hands pocketed inside of her coat.   
  
“Elliott, apparently.” Will closes the mailbox and makes his way up the stairs of his porch, ignoring Margot as she stands and  _ oohs _ at him. He shakes his head, smiling and walking into the house to slide his mail onto the kitchen table. “What?” He questions, turning around to see her grinning at him through the front door.   
  
“The Mayor paired you with your  _ cwush _ ,” she teases, and Will scoffs. “I don’t have a  _ crush _ on Elliott,” he says. He’s only lying a little.

“Whatever you say. This is the plot of a rom-com, though,” she says, offering her hand to him when he’s back out of the house. Will rolls his eyes and takes it. “You already check on the animals earlier?”   
  
“Yeah,” she says, “I took care of everything, they’re doing fine. Where to, today?”   
  
“Pierre’s, and the Museum. I’ve got some ingredients I need to buy for a new recipe I want to try out, and we’ve got a couple of artifacts to donate,” he pats the cross-body bag resting at his hip. Margot nods and they start walking, hands still intertwined.

❄❄❄

A bell jingles as Will pulls open the front door of Pierre’s, snowflakes lightly blowing into the small shop. “Thanks,” Margot smiles lightly as they exit the store, holding a grocery-stuffed bag in both hands. “Museum, next?” She asks.   
  
Their walk to the Museum is mostly silent. It’s not snowing too heavily, and there’s only a couple of inches at the moment. There’s going to be less to do, this season; they haven't fixed up that old greenhouse yet, so they can’t grow any crops until the Spring. Now there’s mostly just caring for their animals, and he supposes there’s more of the mine to explore. He wonders how many kinds of fish are still out during Winter.   
  
Margot elbows his side, looking down at him. “What are you thinking about?”   
  
“Winter,” he replies. Margot hums and looks back up in front of them, breathing in. “What are you thinking about?” Will asks back.   
  
“Same thing,” she chuckles. “It’s not… my favorite time of year. You know that. But I’ve always liked this part about it. The quiet.”

Will does know what she means. Margot has always had a difficult time with winter. He feels it sometimes, too -- the cold starts to seep into your bones, leaving you numb to the world. “Tell me if it gets to be too much, okay?” He squeezes her hand where they’re clasped at each other’s sides. Margot gives him a small smile, nodding.

❄❄❄

Bookshelves run along every wall of the Museum from ceiling to floor, an array of raw and polished gems sparkling on display with long-forgotten artifacts at the center of every room. Gunther perks up from behind the front desk where he sits, adjusting his hat as Will and Margot walk up. “Will, Margot! How are you today?”   
  
“We’re doing alright. Got a couple of things to show you,” Will smiles politely, swinging the bag at his side in front of him. Opening it, he pulls out a lost book and a bone flute he’d found, each on separate occasions. The book he saw tucked under a few bushes while cleaning up around the farm, coated with dirt and tattered at every edge, but possibly worth recovering. The flute he’d found in Cindersnap Forest, equally as dirty, but knew it must have been ancient and that he had to clean it up.

Weirdly, Will doesn’t remember having an eye for these things before he’d moved here. Of course he had no reason to pay as much attention to lost items in the city -- there were a lot fewer people here to try to return them to, but more importantly, the city wasn’t so enchanting. Once, he’d found a fossil. It was a wonder what the valley had hidden when you looked. It was a wonder that he was so good at  _ looking _ all of a sudden. Maybe it was that potion the wizard made him drink back in Spring.   
  
As Gunther inspects his finds, carefully looking down at them through the glasses perched at the end of his nose, Will can hear Penny from further into the Library, talking presumably to Vincent and Jas. He steps around the bookshelf walling off the front desk from the rest of the building to see her sitting on the floor at a kids table, patiently watching as the children write inside their notebooks, gently correcting them as they go. She notices Will and waves at him with a reserved smile, but looks impossibly more shy when she sees Margot standing behind him. It doesn’t go unnoticed how much more genuine Penny’s smile becomes.

Will waves back at her and can’t help the quiet, affectionate laugh that escapes him as steps back to where he was, seeing Margot’s face light up.  _ What was it she said? The plot of a rom-com? _

Gunther hums, setting the bone flute onto the counter, seeming satisfied with his appraisal. “They’re both in surprisingly good shape, especially the flute. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve donated something well over thousands of years old - still, you never fail to impress me. I can’t be sure the age of this one in particular, but these instruments date back to the Ice Age.”  
  
This brings Margot’s attention back to them. “Wait, seriously? Will, how on earth do you keep finding these things?”   
  
“I- I have no clue. Luck, I guess. I mean, I knew it was old…”   
  
“It puts it into perspective, doesn’t it?” Gunther grins. “I’ll trust you to set it up wherever you like, kiddo. Just don’t pick someplace stupid.” he says, pulling out a small glass case from under the desk to put the object into.

Will ends up putting it on display with the fossils, making sure it looks intentional and tidy. There’s a reason Gunther allows him to do this; this Museum would be a lot emptier if not for himself and Margot, and his chest swells with pride at the knowledge that he’s earned the trust of this town in not even a full year. It seems to get clearer every day that Grandpa was right about this place.   


A sudden invasion of his space jolts him out of his thoughts, and he blinks up at Elliott. He’s stepping back, halfway through an apology, and his startled eyes soften when he sees who he’d almost just crashed into. “Will. Hi. I’m so sorry - I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m not usually so clumsy.”   
  
“No worries,” Will smiles nervously, putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Erm-- Why are you. Here. I mean. What brings you here?”  _ Stupid stupid stupid. Margot was right. _ _  
_ _  
_ “Came to return a book, then I got distracted by new ones.” He gestures to the books he has clutched to his stomach. “Very distracted, apparently. How about you?”   
  
“I came with Margot, actually. We were just running errands and I had some things to donate, such as…” He motions to the new addition.   
  
“Oh, wow,” Elliott turns his attention to the flute. “How did you find this?”   
  
“It was in the forest. Honestly, I don’t know. Things like this just show up?”   
  
“Mm, not for me. Or anyone else I know,” he shakes his head. “You must have a very good eye.”   
  
Will smiles again. “Thank you, I suppose.”   
  
He nods. “It’s beautiful. I wonder if it’s still functional.”   
  
“I never tested it out,” he chuckles. “I was busy cleaning out the maybe centuries-old dirt inside. Besides, I wouldn’t know how to play.”   
  
“Neither would I. Piano, yes, but I never learned flute.”   
  
“You play the piano?” Will raises an eyebrow. How did he never know that?   
  
“I happen to,” Elliott smirks down at him. Will tries really hard to ignore the way his heart hammers at the way he wears that expression. “You seem surprised.”   
  
“Only because I never knew,” he shrugs. “It’s not all that surprising. Piano suits you, I think.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smiles easily. It was one. Almost anything is when it comes to Elliott. “Well. I’d better get going, but it was wonderful seeing you.” He puts his hand on Will’s shoulder and Will, once again, has to remember to breathe normally.    
  
_ Wonderful. _ “You too, Elliott. See you around.”  _ It was wonderful seeing you. _

  
Margot lets the door fall behind her, still holding the bags from their grocery trip earlier, and Will offers his hand to take one from her. She watches it for a moment before moving both bags to one hand and taking his in the other.   
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Will laughs.   
  
She shrugs, smiling down at him before they start walking. “Hey,” he nudges. “ _ I’m _ the one bad at hiding feelings?”   
  
Margot rolls her eyes and doesn’t need to ask what he means. “Yes, you are. Penny is my friend.”   
  
“No, I’m your friend. You don’t look at me like that.”   
  
“I am not immune to cute girls,” she jokes, and Will laughs at that. “Never claimed to be. Also, you made me wait at the doorway while you were in there pining for Elliott, so be quiet.”   
  
Will doesn’t know what to say to that. “Fair.”   
  
“Hah!” She barks. “So you aren’t denying it anymore?”   
  
“Oh my god-- don’t start. Take us home, you absolute dork.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> name a duo more powerful and chaotic than a lesbian and her himbo friend i'll WAIT. anyway, i hope you've had a great day so far (and if not i hope it gets better <3)!!! see you soon!
> 
> [tumblr](%E2%80%9Dsoupstupiid.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) | [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4nazv8gLhj4ja2lt9ONZQp)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short and there's like nothing going on lmao so much was going wrong with this one, i'll try to make up for it in the next chapter. still, i hope you enjoy it!

Will blinks his eyes open, and there’s a small wet nose prodding at his face. “ _ Angus _ ,” he laughs as the golden puppy excitedly licks his face, “you can’t be up here.”   
  
He looks at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 6:04 AM, it reads in bold red numbers. He groans and wraps his arms around Angus, whose tail is happily thumping against the bed that Will would normally scold him for jumping on. It’s his rule and he can ignore it if he wants to.

He hears a laugh and looks over his shoulder to see Margot watching him from the doorway. She whistles once and Angus whips his head around before jumping off of the bed in a blur. “Get up,” she says simply, like that’s all there is to it. She turns and walks away, Angus following close behind. Will rubs his eyes, fighting the urge to groan again, and gets out of bed despite himself.

He steps into the kitchen after going to the bathroom, attempting to pull the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, his toes frozen in his socks. Margot presses a warm mug of coffee into his hands and returns to her spot at the sink where she scrubs at the dishes from last night. “Thanks,” Will says quietly.

“Today’s the Festival of Ice. We should get everything done early so we can get there by 9,” she says over the running tap.

Will sips his coffee and watches Angus sniff around under the cupboards. That’s right - they’d gotten another letter from Lewis yesterday morning about the festival. Something about holding a contest of some sort in celebration of winter.   
  
Margot drains the soapy water from the sink and dries her hands, wiping up any additional puddles off of the counter when she’s finished. Will leans back against the fridge and watches her while his mug warms his hands. “You doing okay?”   
  
She blinks up at him before giving him a quiet, barely-laugh. There’s very little that’s genuine about it, and he knows that’s the most honest answer he’ll get. “I’m doing my best,” she says. “Don’t worry.” Will nods and doesn’t push any further.   
  
She looks over Will’s face and chews the inside of her cheek. “You make it easier,” she says softer.   
  
Will sets his coffee down and it’s all he can do to wrap his arms around her and hope that’s true.   
  
❄❄❄

  
Lewis really wasn’t exaggerating in his letter. Entering Cindersnap forest, he can see several people carving away at ice and snow sculptures. Almost everyone in town is here for the festivities. Even George is out here in the cold, though he looks like he doesn’t particularly want to be. Most people are crowded at the lake, waiting for the ice fishing to begin. Vincent is giddily sliding around on the ice, and his mother is close by watching with a worried smile. Will shakes his head and looks over to Margot. “Shall we?”

They talk around, seeing what everyone’s up to. Penny is standing with Jas by the beginnings of a snowman, though it doesn’t have a face yet. When Will and Margot walk up, Penny looks relieved to ask them how she and Jas should decorate it. Margot hums and Will can see her pretending to put a lot of thought into it as Jas looks up at her with anticipating eyes. “Something funky,” Margot finally says. “Give him icicle antennae maybe.”   
  
An amused grin spreads across Penny’s face. “That sounds like a very fun idea,” she says, and it’s as if her voice is coated in sugar when she talks to Margot. Will has to hide his smile behind a cough, and Penny turns his attention towards him. Concern knits into her features ever so slightly. “Are you feeling alright? Maybe you shouldn’t be out here in the cold.”   
  
“No, no. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Margot ends up helping the two with that snowman. Eventually, Will joins Elliott in watching Leah work on her ice sculpture, carefully picking away at it as the late morning sun threatens to show through the cloudy sky and shine down onto it. As Will crosses his arms over his chest and shivers, he doesn’t think it would matter if any light did tug through.

Conversation is easy with Elliott, always. Their words flow naturally into each other, and he's always interested in hearing what WIll has to say, what there is to learn about him.   
  
“Cold?” Elliott asks, his arms joined behind his back. A breeze blows through his long hair, and Will thinks the daylight reflecting up off of the thick layer of snow almost makes him glow where he stands. He stares silently for a split second too long and has to look back at what Leah’s doing in an attempt to hide it. “No. Yeah, but I’ll be okay,” he laughs.  


“I’m thinking of joining the ice fishing contest, maybe."   
  
“Really? Are you much of a fisher?”   
  
“No,” Elliott admits with a chuckle. “I know how, I’d just never felt the desire to learn until I moved here. Still, it might be fun, even if I don’t win. How about you? Do you fish?”   
  
“I do.” He doesn’t know how to say that he mainly only does it to fill out the aquarium in the Community Center. Seems an odd thing to bring up, somehow. “Sometimes I’ll need to for a recipe. I figure since I have the skill, it’s better than buying it at the grocery store.”   
  
“Are you much of a cook?”   
  
“I like it,” Will shrugs. “Whether I’m all that good at it might depend on who you ask.”

That’s a lie. He knows he’s good. He thinks he’d rather not say that, though.   
  
“I’m sure I’d be lucky to find out, one day.”   
  
Will doesn’t have time to reply to that, or even think of a reply before Lewis calls everyone to the lake to start the contest.

❄❄❄

In the end, there are 4 contestants; Himself, Margot, Elliott, and Willy. Margot wins by a single point more than him. Willy gets 3rd place and seems thrilled to see ‘young people appreciating the joy of fishing’. Elliott gets 4th, and he seems to have known that’s how it would turn out. “Usually I’d be more competitive,” he says, but he doesn’t look disappointed.

They offer for Elliott and Leah to spend dinner with them later, and that’s where they are now - Will stands at the stove stirring a pot of cooking pasta, while Margot chops vegetables and Angus lays expectantly at her feet. The other two are seated at the table talking, and Will doesn’t remember the last time he felt this. He can see snow falling silently onto the ground from the window above the sink, he can hear the warm laughter of his friends, he can smell the food they’re making. A heat spreads throughout his chest, reaching all the way to his fingertips and he resigns to blame the fireplace crackling in the living room. In reality, it’s something a lot more like nostalgia or gratitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FISH FEAR ME WOMEN WANT ME anyway thanks 4 reading i hope you have a nice day
> 
> [tumblr](%E2%80%9Dsoupstupiid.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) | playlist


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! i simply did not feel like it on the 10th lol. good thing is that the dates actually align with chapter 5 being posted on the 25th now bc i never learned how to count and calculated it wrong the first time. anyway. enjoy sdjkjdskjfk

The lights strung up on the walls cast a warm glow on the Saloon as it bustles around them. The jukebox that stands in the corner is playing a festive country song that Will hasn’t heard before, not too loudly. Something hot but not unpleasant swirls in his gut - most likely the alcohol - and he can feel Elliott’s shoes resting a few inches away from his own under the table where they’re seated across from each other.

“So wait a minute, how long have you lived here again?” Margot asks from beside him.

Leah swings her glass in small circles and watches the liquid spiral inside. “Not much longer than Elliott,” she says. “I think three… I guess almost four years now.”   
  
“Man, time flies,” Will chimes in. “We’ve been so, so busy. I can’t believe it’s even been a year for us.”

Margot nods. “Especially with the Community Center. And with Angus, too. I really hadn’t expected to raise a puppy.”   
  
Curiosity takes up both Leah and Elliott’s gazes at once. “What about the Community Center?” Leah asks.   
  
“Oh,” Margot chuckles. “We’ve sort of been fixing it up. Sometime after we moved, the Mayor told us that Joja has been hounding him to sell the place to them to turn it into a warehouse.”   
  
Will feels himself cringe at the idea as he watches Margot explain. “Obviously that would be a huge shame, so it’s become sort of a project for us,” he says as he turns back to the other two.

“That’s really generous of you both,” Elliott says, impressed.

“It is. I can’t believe that you… I mean, you got here and decided that was going to be one of the first things you did,” Leah says.   
  
He shrugs and drops his eyes down to his glass, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “I mean, you remember how I told you both that my Grandpa used to live here? This valley meant a lot to him. I won't sit idly and let some greedy corporation sink its teeth into it.”   
  
“True,” Leah agrees.

Will lets the conversation lull for a second before the silence starts to prickle at the back of his neck, and he starts to wonder why he gave them such an in-depth explanation. He might be tipsy. He tries to tell himself that being vulnerable with his friends for a brief moment doesn’t need to scare him, but regardless, he sets his glass down on the wooden table with a gentle  _ clink. _ “So, Elliott,” he begins, “How’s that novel you were telling us about coming along?”

The life visibly drains from Elliott’s face before he groans and Will offers a nervous, apologetic laugh.   
  
“Not well?” Margot raises an eyebrow.

“ _ Hardly, _ ” Elliott says. He tilts his head back and rubs at his eyes, his neck exposed as it stretches upward. “I don’t even-- I can barely tell what genre I’m asking it to be anymore. I don’t know what’s happening.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Will says. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I can’t wait to read it when you do.”

“Thank you, Will,” he smiles. “I know I will. Writing is actually bad though, don’t let anyone convince you to do it,” he sighs, and Will laughs again.

Conversation bounces between them for the rest of the night; slowly, everyone else filters out of the saloon, and the next time Will checks the watch around his wrist, several hours have passed. Disappointment colors his chest and he sighs. “I think we should probably get going.”

Leah looks down at the time tied to her own wrist and raises her eyebrows. “You’re right. Almost 11 PM.”   
  
“Oh-- wait, hold on,” Elliott says, “I forgot something back at home that I meant to bring for you, Will. Walk me home?”

He asks with a casual smile, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Wills chest flutters with something that he tries to swallow, and can’t. Yoba, help him.   
  
He turns to Margot, who’s also smiling. “Um, yeah,” he says, “is that okay? I don’t think I’ll be long, since I’m starting to feel pretty beat.”   
  
“That’s fine,” she says. He can hear what she means in a teasing voice in the back of his head.  _ Take as long as you want, loverboy.  _ “I might be asleep by the time you get back, anyway.”  _ You don’t need my permission.  _ She stands up from her chair and pulls her coat off from where it was draped on the back of it.

He knows he doesn’t. But he turns back to Elliott and tries for the most normal, friendly, I-promise-I-don’t-have-feelings-for-you smile he can muster, and he feels completely out of his element.

❄❄❄

  
The waves lap gently against the white blanket of snow and sand, and the air bites at his reddened nose. He shivers on the doorstep as Elliott unlocks his front door. “I’m sorry to keep you. I promise I won’t make you stay long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Will waves. “It’s always beautiful to see the beach at night.”

“It is,” Elliott says, and the door unlocks. He pushes it open in a hurry and invites Will in. The walls shield them from the wind, but coming inside does little to stop the cold.

Admittedly, this was the first time Will had ever stepped foot into the house, having no prior reason to visit. A piano sits proudly at the center of the back wall, and not far off to the right of it, a decent-sized bed with royal blue sheets. Laying in warm, yielding blankets sounds very enticing right now. But that’s… not why Will is here. He clears his throat.   
  
Elliott notices Will looking around. “I know it’s not much,” he chuckles.

“I’m just worried that- it’s not too cold in here, for you, is it?”

“And hot in the summer,” Elliott laughs distantly before shaking his head. “No, it’s not bad. I have a heater, and Robin helps me out with repairs every once in a while.” He moves to look through a stack of books sitting on his desk, unworried about Will’s concern. “Besides, it’s good to feel things that don’t  _ feel good, _ you know? Means you’re alive, and whatnot. Sets a nice scene for when I’m writing, too.”

Will walks over to the piano. He brushes his fingers against the uncovered white keys, touch light enough not to play a note. His imagination takes him to Elliott sitting at the cushioned stool, long, large hands sprawling across these keys, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“Told you I played,” he hears. 

“You did,” Will laughs, low and fonder than intended. He faces Elliott, who’s holding out a book for him.

“What’s this?”   
  
“It’s been in my collection for a while but I’ve only used it a couple of times. I’m not a cook. You, my friend, on the other hand, are one hell of a chef.”

He laughs again, taking the book into his hand and examining it.  _ Deluxe Vegetarian Recipe Book, _ the title reads. “I really would not use the word  _ chef, _ ” he says. Then, “You shouldn’t- you don’t need to give this to me.”   
  
“Shush. Consider it an early Winter Star gift.”

“Well, I- Thank you, Elliott.” He flips through the pages. “It looks amazing. It was really nice of you to think of me. I’ll have to make you something from in here, soon.”

“I’d like that,” Elliott says. “I suppose I could have waited for another time instead of dragging you out here, but I didn’t want to forget again.” He takes a minuscule step forward, and WIll thinks of something.   
  
“Or maybe you just wanted to spend more time with me,” he says.

He immediately regrets it.

It was intended as a joke. It fell flat, face-first into a gross faux-confidence that he’s not used to. He slowly looks up from the page he was on, awkwardly closing the book.

But Elliott’s gaze is like a hearth; the hot, glimmering embers sear Will’s skin, and he sees him smirk down, hands moving to place themselves into the pockets of his coat. A light shade of pink might dust his cheeks, but it’s dim and it’s cold and Will doesn’t know what he’s thinking, let alone seeing. “Maybe I did,” he says.

A silence stretches for a few agonizing seconds, and Will doesn’t know what to anticipate. His body feels like it’s begging for something, but he can’t tell what. Either to move closer or to bolt out the door or something else.

Elliott speaks up again. “But, I know how tired you are, and I know how tired you’ll be if you don’t get some sleep soon.”

Relief and disappointment unstick him from where he stood frozen, before. “Right. You’re right,” he laughs gently, “Thank you again. It was fun getting to hang out with you and Leah tonight. Always is.”

“It was fun. And really, it’s nothing. I want you to have it, so it’s yours.”

❄❄❄

He sighs and pulls the hood of his jacket over himself. The beach is freezing, colder than it is in town, but the sky is surprisingly clear and his heart is  _ hammering _ and he needs a minute.

He wonders, if either of them had any more to drink earlier, how differently tonight would have played out. Maybe he doesn’t want to think about it. He clutches the book at his hip, and even through his gloved hand, the hardcover is chilled to the touch. 

No, he  _ definitely  _ doesn’t want to think about it. He sighs, once again, and walks a little faster. He really wants to be in his bed.

From the corner of his eye, he sees a light blue glint in the foliage and right where the trees separate Pelican Town from the beach.

As he gets closer, carefully walking around driftwood strewn into the sand. He sees the moonlight gleaming onto something that sits right near a trunk, and picks the object up with his unoccupied hand.

He clutches the recipe book to his chest with his elbow, now using both hands to brush off any snow from the object. It has a golden handle with dirt and grime coating intricate details that are carved into it, and sand hides in every delicate cloth fold as he spreads the large fan apart.

At least he knew he was going to be speaking with Gunther again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this post brought to you by the touch starved gang
> 
> [tumblr](%E2%80%9Dsoupstupiid.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) | playlist


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i'm posting this after midnight but i'm NOT a day late I'm NOT i haven't gone to bed yet so it still counts as the 20th jbjdbkkelrl

“This, I believe,” Gunther peers down at the ornamental fan, “Has to be at least as old as the first one you brought to me. Maybe a little newer. Though, this one isn’t East Asian. It must have belonged to some sort of high-born European woman; it’s got that tacky elegance. Where did you find this one?”

Will inhales as he recalls the night, rewinding too far and landing at Elliot's cabin before pushing that part out of his mind. He’d meant to take it here, the Museum, the next day, but time escapes from him all too easily. “The beach,” he says. “I don’t know when it showed up, just that it was there that night.”

Gunther nods. “Well, you’re welcome to do what you like with it. It would be generous of you, as always, to donate it... But considering we already have one in our collection because of you, I would highly encourage you to keep it.” He hands back the hand fan, and Will takes it gladly from him to examine the art for what must be the fiftieth time since he found it.   
  
The slats are made from gold - whether purely or not, he isn’t sure, but he’s never been the kind of person to care - and the paper, a rich, night-sky blue, is adorned with painterly flowers and stars.

He wouldn’t mind keeping it whatsoever, but as he thinks back to that night, walking home from the beach red-faced in the cold, and as greyish-white light pours in from the frosted window panes in the front entrance door, he thinks he knows someone that might appreciate it as a gift. 

He looks back up, closing the fan in on itself and meeting Gunther's eyes with a light smile. “I think I will.”  
  


❄❄❄

  
When he walks into the house, Margot is sitting at a dining chair pulled rather far out from the table, leaning forward, holding Angus by his front paws where he sits up straight on his back legs on the floor in front of her. He pulls them out of her grasp when Will shuts the door behind him and runs over with his tail wagging from side to side powerfully behind him. “Welcome home,” Margot greets.   
  
“Hi,” he says, snapping his fingers and signaling for Angus to sit. Reluctantly, he does, so Will picks him up and walks over to the table while the puppy covers his face in wet kisses.

“How’d that go?” She asks.   
  
“Fine. I kept it. I was thinking it would make a nice gift for Elliott, since I still haven’t thought of something else,” he says, and pulls it out of his bag to set on the table.

“It’s going to make a wonderful gift,” she says. “Elliott will love that.”   
  
_ I hope so, _ he wants to say, and feels himself reign the words back into his mouth before he can, but he doesn’t know why. On the long list of things he’s caught himself hoping for, it’s completely regular. Still, his chest tangles with something, and he turns back to the dog. Something feels so off about it, about all of this. His nervousness has turned into damn near guilt, and the closer he and Elliott get as friends, the less confidence he has in ever trying for honesty. It’s getting out of hand.

He can count on one hand the romantic relationships he’s had in the past. Actually, he can count with a single finger. Once before. In high school. With a girl.

_ With another girl, _ the back of his mind whispers, and it’s been a long time since a thought like that has had such a sinister twinge to it.

The girl’s parents found them together on one occasion and it ended after that. From then on, he’d never really bothered. As much as he wanted to. He’d figured he had more of himself to explore anyway without focusing on others, and he was right. An entire identity that needed mapping out.

His family was new to it, but supportive. His Grandpa especially, Will thinks, tried the hardest of anyone to get used to the transition. He joked that he could never be disappointed in having a grandson, and the memory makes him ache.

But still, having never been given an opportunity to get used to an experience like this... He’s 24 now, and he feels just like a teenager. His heart will skip, blood will roar, face will burn. And truly, it feels like a curse. 

He runs his hand down his face, mostly to wipe off any moisture leftover from the slobbery baby he’s holding, and his hands catch against stubble. A lot has changed. A lot is new. He can’t think about any of it.   
  
Margot can sense the stiffness in him and stands up from her seat. She slides the chair back into place, shadowed by the table. “When did you want to head out?” 

“Now is good, honestly,” he answers.  
  


❄❄❄

  
Will jerks thick blue slime off of his hands, which lands onto the ground with a comically gross squelching sound, and he’s grateful that he learned very early on that gloves are necessary for this kind of work as he sweeps some off of the blade of his sword as well. This area of the Mines has been the worst yet.

“Looks like we’re going into a new environment,” he says cautiously. For the last few levels, the air has turned from a thin, prickling cold into something dense and humid. The frozen walls shine with their own sweat, and it doesn’t look or feel as much like the tundra as what he would imagine being a glass of ice water in the middle of summer would feel like.

“It does,” Margot agrees. “Be really careful. It seems like the deeper we go, the harder it is to fight these guys.”

She’s right; recently every occasion that they’ve come down here feels like a test of strength, with each of the creatures they run into hitting twice as hard as the last. As Margot climbs down the ladder to the floor below them, Will glances up, and swears he almost feels the earth closing in around him as he’s met with the fact that they’re miles below ground level. A dizzy shudder runs through him, and he quickly decides never to think about that again, before following Margot down, further below. They’re lucky that there’s still a functioning elevator that can come all the way down here.   
  
And when he hops down from the last step on the ladder, it turns out he was right. It’s a room with a chest sitting in the center, and elevator doors sit invitingly on the same wall they climbed down on. The light above it glows, letting them know that it’s vacant inside, ready to take them out of here any time they’d like.  _ Get out while you still can,  _ he can practically hear it saying. It’s so much darker here. It’s so much hotter.   
  
“Hell yeah, finally,” Margot says. Will chuckles. She opens the lid of the chest and inside, finds a note and a pair of heavy-duty boots.  _ Firewalker boots,  _ the note simply says, which feels much more ominous than was likely intended.

That’s another thing about these Mines. It’s not like the chests they find are supposed to be locked up for no one to find. They’re rewards for whoever was equally stupid and brave enough to reach them, and he has no idea who put them here. He files it with the rest of the strange things about the Valley that he doesn’t necessarily have the energy to question.

The next floor, everything is immediately so much worse. The air is feverishly humid, and he and Margot are midway through picking at iron ore in the corner when a red fog starts to creep, then thicken, and then billow. They share a moderately panicked glance at each other and he can hear her say, “Well, fuck.”

Well, fuck, indeed. He can hear the bats screeching already.   
  
In a moment, they’re swarming him quickly and angrily, attacking and biting at him, and he swings his sword around him in a desperate attempt to strike any one of them. Margot tries to help in his efforts but the more that fly towards them, the further they end up from each other. 

Lava bats. Bigger, faster, and in every way smarter. They only dodge when he aims for them.

The two friends are on practically opposite sides of the cave by the time they start to retrieve their bearings, and wherever she is, he can’t afford to stop what he’s doing to go and help.   
  
Eventually, the fog starts to thin, and he’s feeling considerably worse for wear. With his sword, he pins a wing of one of the last creatures into the stone wall. It’s body sags, and he sighs in relief. He grips the handle of his sword and yanks it back.

He almost starts to taste a familiar regret on the back of his tongue at the sight of the lifeless animals - it’s easier to fight like this when his opponent is already undead. But as it turns out, he has no time to wipe it from his mouth before what happens next.

Very suddenly and for a reason he can’t explain, his body is unbearable. For a split second, heat gathers at his lower left abdomen. He hears himself hiss, then scream as a vivid discomfort electrifies the area and his weight falls from under him.

Sharp, stinging vines of pain crawl and span his entire side, as he’s pinned to the wall, held up by the dagger pierced into him. His scream dies a groan in his throat.   
  
He weakly knocks his head against the earth behind him and focuses his eyes as well as he can. He’s met with only the empty stare of his enemy - a perfectly animated skeleton, as alive as it must have been when it wore flesh and blood.   
  
Guiltlessly, it digs the steel deeper into him. Distantly, there’s a shout, before his vision blurs, and is swallowed in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry
> 
> [tumblr](%E2%80%9Dsoupstupiid.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) | playlist


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. i'll explain why it took so long a bit in the notes at the end, but for now, i hope you enjoy :)

Will spends 2 days at the clinic. The first, he sleeps through almost entirely, and even when he’s sleeping, he’s hardly ever alone.  
  
The first time he’d woken up, he had no clue where he was. Margot was sitting in a chair beside his bed, eyes closed, holding his hand as he slept. He takes it out from under hers only to lay it on top and squeeze tiredly. She blinks. “You’re awake."  
  
He smiles, and without a say in it, his body is taken into a coughing fit. He clutches his abdomen, and only then does he realize there are bandages wrapped around him, and remembers the events of what might have been the previous night. “Unfortunately,” he replies. His voice sounds awful.   
  
Margot stands up to retrieve a dixie cup of water from a bathroom to the side of the stalls of beds. “How long have I been out?” He asks after taking a few sips. It washes out the dry feeling under his tongue, but the taste of metal lingers.  
  
“Almost a day. After you fainted, I rushed you here,” she says. She looks as if she’s carefully rolling a thought around in her head, considering for a moment before she adopts a sternness in her expression. “You really scared me."  
  
Her fading pink hair appears mussed, not as shiny as usual; perhaps dried after getting soaked with water. He distantly recalls the forecast for that day, and then - the thought of her finding him, weakly grasping his wound, blood rushing from between his fingers. Having to carry him here in the rain. It itches something in his ribcage to continue making eye contact with her, so he looks away. “I know. I’m sorry, “ he can barely say. “I’ll try to be more careful.”  
  
The sigh she answers with is exhausted with worry. “I should probably tell someone that you woke up,” she says.   
  
Will nods, and soon, both Dr. Harvey and Maru are in the room, checking on him. They ask very few questions and he tries to answer for himself as well as he can, but his eyelids already feel so heavy, again.  
  
  
  
Several hours have passed by the next time he opens his eyes. When he does, it’s at the hands of a nightmare; he keeps imagining he’s back  _ there _ , in the dark, damp red. But he isn’t. The clinic is quiet. The room is lit solely by the dim lamp that stands on the bedside table, the air stale and unfamiliar.  
  
He blinks over and over as he adjusts to wakefulness. Seated in the chair, now, is not Margot. There’s a large hand resting inches from Will’s own, and every part of him wants to reach for it. To feel something warm against his cold fingertips.  
  
Elliott’s long red hair is highlighted gold in the low lamplight, head tipped back in his chair and eyes closed. His expression is calm, thoughtless; Will wonders if he’s sleeping, if he should wake him up. Most likely, yes, he should, but he somehow can’t bring himself to.  
  
He wonders also if it makes him selfish that for now, with his eyes coated in sleep and his mouth parched, and his torso entirely sore, he only wants to indulge in the knowledge that Elliott was worried enough to spend time here. He probably wanted to be here when Will woke up. He probably doesn’t like to see Will like this, with bruises and scratches from the swarm underground that landed him here and what he imagines must be midnight-like circles under his eyes.  
  
He allows himself to imagine it’s because Elliott loves him. They’re friends - that’s true, surely. Not in the way Will wants. Surely. But the idea of it is a balm he applies to his wounds.  
  
He allows himself to stare until Elliott opens his eyes, too drained to pretend he doesn’t want to.  


❄❄❄   
  


Sleep is a remarkable antidote for any injury, but like with so many other things, he has to remind himself that things don’t work in this valley the way they do outside of it - recovery being one of the strangest. Logically there’s no way he should have healed as much as he has as _quickly_ as he has, but he really can’t complain, can he?  
  
It’s now the night before the Feast of the Winter Star. He and Margot were on the couch watching TV together, but she dozed off with Angus in her lap long ago. He’s supposed to be resting, but he’s had enough of being doted on and bedridden to last him at least ages. He’s itching to do some work around the farm - hates the thought of Margot having to take it all on by herself, always has, especially with how she feels in the Winter - but then again, the skin above his stomach itches in a similar manner as it sews itself back together.  
  
He bites the inside of his cheek. A part of him says, _it’s 11 PM, cold outside, and you’re supposed to be doing nothing._ And he agrees with himself, but truly, fuck that _._ He quietly stands up from the couch and a pang of discomfort spreads in his stomach, forcing him to bend over, which does positively nothing to help. The cycle slowly dies as he straightens himself out, and Angus stares at him.  
  
They blink at each other in silence before Will points accusingly at him, daring him not to get up. The dog rests his head back onto the couch in a promise not to snitch. He continues to stare, though.  
  
Will slowly readies himself into some winter gear (jacket, scarf and boots, which decidedly isn’t warm enough as soon as he steps outside) and quietly heads out of the house. He doesn’t know where he’s going - he can’t do very much. He’d had trouble just bending over enough to lace his boots, which leaves him with a pretty slim array of options. He decides not to think about it, to just watch where his feet take him.  
  
He doesn’t leave the farm. He ends up by the barn and thinks of going in to see the cows - he hasn’t seen any of the animals in days. But they’re fast asleep by now, and he keeps walking the snowy pasture that’s a haven of long green grass in the Spring and Summer. The sky is cloudy, but still enough light reflects off of the snow to show him that he’s heading towards his Grandfather’s burial place. The air becomes heavier around him and he sighs.  
  
He stops a few feet away. The stone is still and snow-covered, and he brushes some of it off with his bare, gloveless hand. It burns his skin.  
  
He wonders who made this gravestone. It’s carved beautifully; he supposes it might have been Robin. He wonders how well they’d known each other, how well he’d known anyone in this valley. Lewis was a close friend of his, he knows, but beyond that, his Grandfather’s life here remained largely a mystery, save for a few of the fond stories he’d tell whenever he took a train out to visit.  
  
It’s been years now, since he passed; Will had been in his late teens when it happened. It still aches to think about, but he inhales, letting the chilled air fill out his lungs and chest, and bears the last few inches of his swelling grief.  
  
“I would have liked to say thank you, for all this,” he says quietly, into the air. He imagines he’s not alone. “I would’ve never guessed this life for myself, but I… I’ve grown to really like my life here. The people. We even found Angus.”  
  
He shifts his weight and casts his eyes to the ground, almost whispering the next part. “I really do miss you. Even after all this time.” _I wonder if you’re out there,_ he feels too stupid to say. “But I guess - I guess I’m still pretending, so.”   
  
He squeezes his eyes shut briefly and repeats the words in his mind until he’s sure they’re heard. _Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is a gift I never knew I needed.  
  
_ _But it’s the best one I’ve ever received.  
  
  
  
_ When he eventually heads back home, Margot is up. Angus thumps his tail happily at the sight of him, still perched on the woman’s lap.  
  
For a moment, as he closes the door behind him, she looks briefly surprised. “I thought you’d gone to bed,” she says with a resigned laugh. “What the hell were you doing out there?”  
  
“I just needed some air,” Will replies.  
  
She looks like she wants to protest, but Will is not only a grown man - he’s one of the most remarkably stubborn people either of them has ever known, and she knows better of it.  
  
“I’m gonna need some help getting out of all this though,” Will sighs. He feels like a child.  
  
She pats at Angus’ flank a few times before he promptly hops onto the floor and she stands to assist Will.  
  
He sits at one of the dining chairs as she unties the laces of his boots. She looks tired. She has forever, now, and Will knows what she must be going through - but she’s calm, and she’s steady, and Will feels as if he’s leaving a trail of himself for her to pick up. Messy. Burdening her with pieces of him he’s not strong enough to hold.  
  
“I can hear you thinking,” she says quietly.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
She looks up. “What?”  
  
“I just, ah - I know it’s a lot. I feel bad. You’ve had to take on everything while I’m recovering, and…”  
  
“Will. Don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
“I’m serious.”  
  
“I know you are, but you’re still being ridiculous,” she looks back to where she’s lifting one of his boots off of a foot.  
  
“I just wanted to thank you, I guess. I know you don’t have a choice, but I appreciate it.”

“You could have just said that, then. Don’t apologize.”  
  
He watches her in silence. On one hand, she’s right, but on the other, she doesn’t… she’s never going to _understand._ She gives so much of herself to him, and she does it so willingly. He knows why. He knows he’s never loved anyone to the extent that he loves Margot, and he knows that goes both ways, but it’s still - unfair.  
  
“Thank you, then. For staying with me all this time.”  
  
She looks back up at him, now finished with taking off his shoes. “Where else would I be?”  
  
  
❄❄❄  
  
  
Bustling laughter is carried on every breeze of the late morning air. The whole town has gathered at the square, every inch of it decorated with red, green, and gold. A giant holiday tree stands proudly in the center of it all, covered head to toe in lights and ornaments, gifts littered around the lowest of its branches.  
  
Most celebrations in Pelican town have a buffet of food to choose from, but today it truly is a _feast_ , and Will has to wonder how many people have contributed to the menu today. The scent of every steaming seasonal dish among the large tables is overwhelming, which, he supposes he should have expected.  
  
He’s sitting at one of the smaller tables with Margot, Leah, Elliott, and even Penny this time around. “I was so sorry to hear what happened,” she says, eyebrows knit into a single line of concern.  
  
“Thank you, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m recovering pretty quick.”  
  
“Yes, _‘nothing to worry about’_ ,” Margot fixes him with a glare. “He does this _all the time_.”  
  
He smiles sheepishly in response. “Today’s not about me in the slightest, I don’t want everyone telling me how worried they were. I’m gonna be fine,” he says to Penny, and she nods.  
  
The morning passes faster than Will anticipated it would, but then, that’s usually the case with holidays. Between watching the gift exchange unravel and catching up with everyone around town, hours pass like minutes, and he lets himself get wrapped up in them. Everyone that heard about his accident continues to ask how he’s doing and send him well wishes, and he has to bat their worries away each time. Every once in a while, Vincent or Jas will walk up to Penny and showcase a toy they’ve received, to which she responds with the same amazement and kind grin over and over. Vincent even shows one to Margot, and she acts terribly impressed by it. (Will thinks she actually might be, a little.)  
  
They had been waiting to spot Linus from their table so that Margot could give her gift to him, and eventually, as always, he showed up along the edges of the celebration.  
  
Margot had been working on Linus’ gift for nearly the entire season. She needed to recruit Emily to help in making it, and even now, Will could see the influence she’d had. The box Margot hands to Linus is (first of all, one of the largest gifts that had been put under the tree) a vivid, glittery red, and he can tell by the way Margot dusts her hands once she’s not holding it anymore that it wasn’t something she would have chosen otherwise.  
  
Linus pulls a weighty quilt out of the box, an array of earthy blocks of color against creamy white, and Will smiles when he imagines his friend carefully choosing what color and kind of fabric to use when she wouldn’t typically think twice about something like that. But with others, there’s intent in every way she cares. The quilt looks very warm.  
  
Leah was, at some point, whisked away from the table by Evelyn, who happened to be her secret gift-giver. When Margot comes back to the table, she stealthily grabs Will’s gift to Elliott from under the tree and hands it to Will.   
  
“Penny, I actually have something to show you back at the farm, if you’d like to come and see?” Margot says, nodding to the general direction of their home. Penny blinks up at her for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure, Margot,” she says. There’s an underlying nervousness in her voice, easy to hear even for Will.  
  
“We’ll be back,” Margot smiles at the two still seated at the table. Will mirrors the gesture and without a trace of the mischief that he knows Margot is feeling.

When Will returns his gaze to the table, Elliott is watching him. He tries to swallow the anxiety that crawls into his throat when he remembers that they haven’t been alone together since the clinic. It’s fine. They’re friends, it’s fine.    
  
_ That’s the problem. _   
  
_ Elliott told him how scared he was when Margot called him. Elliott helped him out of bed, wrapped a strong arm around his waist before letting go at the door of the restroom. Elliott talked with him about everything and kept talking when Will jokingly admitted he was too tired to even string a sentence together. Because he’d asked. Because he had said that he needed the company. He wanted to say, “Let me keep hearing your voice.” He didn’t. He didn’t need to. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ And it was Elliott’s voice he heard as his eyelids fell once more. Whatever the subject, he listened and nodded and laughed on time until finally, the low timbre of that voice tempted him to sleep again. “Will?” He tried. “Are you asleep?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Experimentally, Will didn’t respond. He heard Elliott sigh. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ And after a moment: _ _   
_ _   
_ _ "Please, don’t let anything else happen to you.”  
  
_ The thing is, they’re friends. And a quiet part of Will would do anything to change that, where the large part of him is far too scared to try.   
  
He suppresses all of these thoughts, to the best of his ability, when he speaks up. “Well,” he says casually, “I actually have something for you too.”   
  
Elliott raises his eyebrows playfully. There’s mirth in his eyes. It’s a delectable look on him. “Do you?”   
  
Will slides the gift bag across the table. “Surprise,” Will feels tempted to roll his eyes. “I was your  _ secret friend _ this year, or something.”   
  
Elliott’s gaze searches Will’s own, and there’s something far too fond in it. Will knows, at this point, that when looks away and back to the bag Elliott is grabbing off of the table, he’s just cowering. He can’t tell if he’s imagining things or if he hopes he is. He can’t tell which outcome he wants more.   
  
Elliott carefully unties the ribbon holding the handle of the bag together. It takes a while, and Will laughs to fill the silence. “Margot had to wrap it for me. We had planned to wrap all our gifts together once she and Emily finished with Linus’ quilt, but at that point, I was busy being… hospitalized,” he shakes his head.   
  
“I’m just relieved you’re well enough to be out here with us, today,” Elliott says. He finally manages to pull the ribbon apart and pulls out his gift.   
  
He’s fully silent as he takes the fan out and unfurls it. He lightly traces the edges of the golden slats with his fingers and looks back up. “Will - this is - is this another of your crazy artifact finds?”   
  
Will simply shrugs and nods.   
  
“It’s -  _ beautiful, _ ” Elliott says. He blinks down at it. “Why don’t you donate it? Or keep it? I mean, not that I’m-”   
  
“I want you to have it, so it’s yours,” Will quotes. He thinks this is the first time he’s seen Elliott genuinely flustered and it’s hard not to grin. “Oddly enough, I found it on the beach that night, on the way back home. I think it would feel wrong to do anything else with it.”   
  
“Well, thank you. So much. It’s beautiful.”   
  
“I’m glad you like it.”   
  
Elliott runs a hand through his hair that falls in the way of his line of sight, pushing it back and out of his face. “I love it,” he says, continuing to admire the art.   
  
Will can’t stop himself from staring. He can’t stop himself from watching Elliott’s eyelashes, his long red hair, the veins in his hand where he’d taken his gloves off, the way he bites his lips when they’re chapped from the cold. And he decides this:   
  
Either he continues to  _ watch _ until he feels creepy enough that he can’t bear to spend time with someone he’d really rather not lose, or he  _ does something. _ This isn’t like him. The constant, low hum of worry in his body when he’s with Elliott. He feels awkward, and passive, and unfamiliar.   
  
He grips this ounce of bravery in him before it can slip away. “Take a walk with me?”  
  
  
  
They walk side by side, crunching snow and sand beneath the fall of their boots. They’re only slightly out of sync. Will coats the inside of his lungs with new, cold air when he inhales and he stops walking.   
  
Elliott stops slightly ahead and turns entirely to face Will. “Is something the matter?” He asks.   
  
“No. Well, yes. I just need to… stop this. I need to be honest with you.”   
  
“Oh,” is all Elliott replies with.   
  
Will looks away and bounces on his heels. He doesn’t know where to start. He’s had an imaginary version of this conversation   
  
“Even when I met you, I… I’m gonna sound stupid, Elliott, just bear with me. I’m not good at this.”   
  
Elliott merely waits.   
  
“It’s always been different with you. Even before we became friends, there was… something about you, I guess. I love having you as a friend, and I don’t want to fuck anything up, but I can’t continue whatever’s  _ happening _ with me, and I think not saying anything would be just as bad.”   
  
“Will,” Elliott says. It draws his attention up to his eyes. “Stop worrying. Just tell me what’s wrong.”   
  
He tries to breathe calmly. In and out, slowly. He fails. His heart is thudding so hard in his chest that he can hear it. His grip on that bravery is faltering wildly.   
  
He looks to the ocean so that he doesn’t have to continue making eye contact, and then laughs, because he feels truly ridiculous. He rolls his head back to look up at the cloudy sky, and then finally back to Elliott. He must look wild. At least in comparison to Elliott, who’s just watching patiently. Will doesn’t think he’s panicked this hard ever.   
  
And in that moment, Will thinks of something incredibly stupid. But it’s something a whole lot easier than trying to untangle his tongue in his mouth, and before he can stop himself, he’s already stepping forward.   
  
His mouth collides with Elliott’s. He has to step onto the tips of his toes to properly reach high enough, and he reaches and fists his hands into Elliott’s coat.   
  
Elliott makes a small, high-pitched sound against his mouth, and Will realizes they’re both holding their breath. He forces himself to breathe, again, in and out through his nose, before realizing that Elliott also hasn’t moved, hasn’t kissed back, hasn’t -   
  
He pulls back. Fuck. Fuck.   
  
Fuck. “Sorry, I’m sorry -”   
  
What was he thinking? He wasn’t, clearly - how will they recover from this?   
  
Elliott’s hands are on his face in the same instance that their lips meet again. Will’s body is the one that refuses to move, now. For a moment, he just stands perfectly still and helpless. And then relief swallows him whole, and he relaxes. He puts his hands on Elliott’s waist and pulls back.   
  
“Sorry,” he repeats.   
  
“Don’t be.”   
  
“I’ve never done this before,” Will says. He’s panting slightly. Every nerve in his body feels like a lighter is being held to it. “Not with a - a guy, at least.”   
  
“It’s okay.”   
  
“I didn’t mean -”   
  
“Stop talking,” Elliott says, and he pulls Will back up to his mouth.   
  
His lips are chapped, which Will expected, but he can feel parts of them scratch lightly against his own. The air is icy against his skin while a layer of red-hot heat expands underneath him, and that’s - that’s Elliott, that’s all him. From their mouths to the end of his spine and the tips of his fingers, Elliott warms and soothes. Will feels like a pot of boiling water left to freeze. He can’t get enough.   
  
He cocks his head and sinks his mouth deeper, just because he can’t help himself. He thinks Elliott is making that a habit of his.   
  
He’s sure he wants more. Wants to be somewhere warm, to finally hold Elliott against himself, and to feel him wring every ounce of concern from his skin. But this is not the time nor place, and once again, he reigns himself in. He pulls his hands off of Elliott’s waist, bringing them up to grab the hands on his face.   
  
“So, anyway. That’s what I was trying to say,” he chuckles.   
  
Elliott laughs, just inches away. Will doesn’t know how he ever survived being so far away, before. “I know how you feel,” the man grins, and takes Will’s hands, letting them fall and hang connected between them.   
  
“Good,” Will says softly. “Good, that’s a relief.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand that's it folks! ;w;
> 
> a bit of explanation into why this took so long: basically, writers block and seasonal depression lol. it stopped being a christmas gift and turned into more of a "whenever i have the motivation" kind of thing, but that being said, 10k is the most I've EVER written for literally anything and i'm pretty proud of myself for it??
> 
> to everyone who read or will read this, thank you so much for your time and i'd love to hear your feedback <3 i'm not sure, but i hope the ending was a satisfying one and didn't feel too rushed!
> 
> evren - i hope i was able to represent Will well in this and that i did him justice. thank you for being patient, i love you very very much ;;w;;
> 
> see you next time <3
> 
> [tumblr](%E2%80%9Dsoupstupiid.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) | playlist


End file.
